


The Edge

by sburbanite



Series: Post-SBURB stress disorders and how to treat them [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Back to Earth, Day At The Beach, Gen, Happy Ending, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Self-Indulgent, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sburbanite/pseuds/sburbanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here, by the edge of the ocean that fed you and cradled you and damn near killed you on more than one occasion, you finally feel at home on the land.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Edge

You watch, enraptured, as sand whispers through your fingers; a bizarre dry solid that behaves like a liquid. The only sand in your old world was the distant, ghostly-white of the sea-floor. Gazing down at the decayed roots of buildings, you’d never dreamed it would feel like this. Running long fingers through the warmth of it, patting it down solid, carving out a hollow with your hand, all of it brings a smile to your face. It’s like communing with the land, with the Earth itself, away from the confusing tangle of life that holds sway above the dunes. Here, by the edge of the ocean that fed you and cradled you and damn near killed you on more than one occasion, you finally feel at home on the land. _It isn’t our ocean_ , Hal informs you, _it’s on the other side of the continent_. You don’t care. It looks the same. 

The breeze and the light and the gulls are the same, too. Jade chose this place well, only the unfamiliar stars give it away. Across the sand, you can hear the others chatting and laughing, defending the food and the picture-perfect red-and-white blanket from certain doom at the slobbery jaws of an overexcited Bequerel. The whole planet is empty, but to you, there are still too many people. 

You sketch symbols and glyphs, defacing the sand with meaningless swirls before smoothing it all away, turning it back into a perfect blank canvas. Clean, flat, simple. If only people were so easy. Sometimes you feel like your soul is clogged with graffiti, your code overwritten with the colored scrawls of different splinters. As much as you’d love to scrub off their markings, you can’t. It’s all you. It’s always been you. It’s hardly a surprise that you’re a patchwork facsimile of a human; you built yourself from the rusted remains of Earth’s culture and the bright, messy solder of your childhood friendships. 

_Poor little Pinocchio_ , Hal quips, _still wishing he was a real boy. He should try being trapped in a pair of sunnies._ You tell him to quit his bitching, the android chassis is almost finished. Soon, he can feel free to get out of your face for five minutes. 

Closing your eyes holds back the tide of red text for a moment, the cascade of activities Hal wants to do in his new form. His excitement is infectious, and your fingers automatically trace circuitry in the sand as you picture your latest project. Latest and greatest. Hal is going to be magnificent. 

In the darkness of your own head, the happy chatter coming from the blanket and the water is louder than your thoughts. Roxy is the loudest, screaming with delight as John chases her into the ocean. Second prize goes to Karkat, yelling something angry and indistinct over the sound of Jane’s giggles. You grin; Dave probably offered to apply her sunscreen. Over here, on the edge of things, you feel an unfamiliar warmth blooming in your chest. The edge is an improvement on the middle of nowhere, it’s one step closer to light and love and laughter. You can just observe for now. It’s what you do best. 

You’re beginning to fall asleep in the hazy sunshine when you hear the thud of Jake’s footsteps. Like you, he’s been keeping his distance, scrambling over rocks and scaling the shallow cliffs. You’re surprised when he sits down beside you. 

“Mind if I sit with you for a bit?” He asks, eyeing your shades to try and determine if you’re asleep, awake, or staring straight at him. In the whole time you’ve known him, he’s never dealt very well with the shades. 

“Sure, be my guest.” 

Jake smiles, pulling out a pocket knife and a piece of driftwood. Closing your eyes again, you listen to him whittling, to the sounds of a loud game of volleyball at which Vriska is most definitely cheating. One hand trails in the sand, draws circles, spirals, and then wipes it all away. 

Later, when you wake to find yourself leaning on Jake’s shoulder, a tiny carving of a fox nestled in your lap and the sun sinking gracefully into the sea, you smile. For now, you’re on the edge, but at least you’re not alone out here.

**Author's Note:**

> I've seen a lot of sad Dirk post-Sburb so here's happy Dirk.


End file.
